Bah Humbug!
by longlostnite
Summary: Co-written with Rook at the Door, Vicki's grinchiness nearly ruins Christmas, but a lesson learned is never too late. Happy Holidays


**Bah…Humbug**

**Chapter One**

Why they couldn't meet in the comparative warmth of her office, Vicki wasn't sure. Mr. Forsyth, what an asshole, had been very specific. No, he wanted her to meet him on the corner of Bloor Street and Keele. So here she stood in a too short brown leather jacket, her hands jammed in her pockets, her glasses fogged up with the steam from her own breath and the tops of her ears burning.

"I'll give him five more minutes," she muttered to herself and hunched up her shoulders. She wanted to stamp her feet in frustration but she was pretty sure her toes might shatter. That was how cold she thought they were. Thought they were anyway, because she sure as hell couldn't feel them.

A cab swerved suddenly out of traffic and pulled up to the curb in a cloud of steam, the window rolled down and a brown leather gloved hand beckoned her to the car. Not a fucking chance, she thought. He kept me standing here for a good quarter hour, freezing my hiney off so he can damn well come to me.

There followed a brief struggle of wills and then a resigned Mr. Forsyth, tall and as thin as an switch, exited the cab and crossed to her.

"Miss Nelson." His voice was dry, and slightly hoarse, muffled by the cashmere scarf he had wrapped about his throat and jaw.

"The very same, have you got it?"

He nodded and withdrew a small wooden box from his coat. "My contact will pick it up from your office tomorrow morning about ten a.m. He will be wearing a Santa Claus suit and will use the code word Humbug."

"You have got to be shitting me…" Vicki began but Mr. Forsythe just overrode her as though she hadn't spoken.

"I am not interested in what you think of our planning skills Ms. Nelson. Simply ensure that my contact collects the artifact and I will ensure that the funds hit your account tonight. You guaranteed your discretion."

Vicki snatched the box out of his gloved hands. Discretion my ass, she thought but all she did was pocket the box.

When the cab had pulled away, she set off across the park on her way to the subway station. The sooner she returned to the office, the sooner she could get a coffee.

** #**

The door of the office would only open half way before it hit the doorstop that Coreen had double sided taped to the floor to protect the Christmas tree. The Scotch pine took up frigging half of the office and looked substantially more lop sided now that Vickie had snipped off several branches in order to have a clear path to the coffee machine. What was it about Coreen and the rescue a Charlie Brown, little lost Christmas tree campaign? Whatever.

"Hey Vicki. Here's the mail, no checks but the phone bill is overdue and oh…four more Christmas car…" Coreen's voice faded at the expression on Vicki's face. "Um, Mike called. He said that he'll be here after his shift and did you want him to bring Chinese even though Captain Canin…I mean…Henry is going to be here. Oh, and he wanted to know why your cell is always dead."

Vicki wondered sourly what the red leather bustier's designer would think of the strategic addition of holly leaves and jingle bells and then decided that she didn't care. Coreen resembled a Goth Christmas elf seated behind a desk in a Tim Burton version of Santa's mailroom, half buried in Christmas cards and decorations.

The endless piped Christmas music in the subway car had done nothing for Vicki's temper. If I had to listen to one more rendition of Silver Bells I may have strangled someone, she thought as she took the mail from Coreen…God were those candy canes painted on her fingernails?...and stamped into her office throwing herself down into her chair.

First she fished the bottle of whiskey out of her drawer then the glass and poured out a stiff drink and then she fished that little wooden box out of her pocket and set it on her desk top.

"So what kind of artifact is it that makes Mr. Forsyth, aka Jules Anzio Venuchi, pay one Victoria Nelson P.I. five hundred dollars to hold it overnight and pass it to "Santa" the next day?" She considered the box for a moment as she sipped her drink.

Discretion be damned. She set aside her glass and opened the latch of the box, flipping back the lid. She had thought it might be a necklace or a fragment of pottery or some ancient arrowhead. Instead she was surprised to see a black stone scarab nestled in a bed of white velvet.

It looked real at first, a beetle of a size to fit within the cupped palm of her hand. Shiny and cool and curiously heavy, obsidian she thought rubbing a thumb over the carved carapace. It was strongly attractive and after ten minutes she found she was still holding it. She forced herself to set it aside on the white velvet and turned her attention to the mail.

#

He could scent it before he started up the stairs to her office. After the clear crisp night air, the cloying scent of Chinese food almost made him nauseous. Did the man eat nothing but beef and broccoli? How often did the Constable smell of it and then pass that scent to Vicki? Henry wrinkled his nose in dismay and then, setting his shoulders inside his coat, climbed the stairs. The scent was stronger here, soy sauce and Coreen's perfume and cooked cabbage. He composed his face, for it wouldn't do to allow his adversary to know just how much these scents disturbed him.

Henry pushed the door open and was rewarded with a rain of pine needles from the tree, its lower branches practically denuded by the foot traffic to and from the office.

"In here, Henry," Vicki's voice sounded from her office and he slipped through to find Vicki ensconced in her office chair, feet up on the desk, The Constable was taking up one half of the dilapidated sofa and Coreen was settled on the other. Each held a cardboard takeout carton and a pair of chopsticks.

"Hey Captain Canine…help yourself, oh wait…you don't eat…Chinese." Mike was wearing his game face secure in the knowledge he has scored the first point.

Henry drew off the soft leather gloves he wore and undid the top button of his jacket before he deigned to respond. "I have already …eaten…Constable, however let me assure you when I have Chinese, I always…dine in." There was no discernible difference between human blood from one race or another. To Henry, blood was blood. Sometimes, it was tinged with the spice of fear or arousal but, well, there was no point in enlightening Celluci and giving him more ammunition.

"Quit it you two. I'm not in the mood." Vicki glowered at Mike and then while she dug around with the chopsticks in her chop suey for another shrimp, she jerked her head towards the small wooden box on her desk. "That's the artifact I told you about. What did you find out?"

"I did a little research I am pretty sure it is Egyptian, maybe? Some kind of magical…." Correen volunteered.

She watched Henry lift the obsidian beetle from the velvet. "Can you sense anything Henry?"

The vampire held the piece in his cupped hands. He had done his own research and scarcely believed what he had read. He'd heard stories and yet to a man of his beliefs this artifact seemed impossibility.

"Uh huh… a magical stone cockroach from some pyramid…"

Henry was on Celluci in a heartbeat, the beef and broccoli spilling down into the Detectives lap sending him half rising in the seat and Coreen scrambling out of the way. "Idiot…" Henry hissed and then spun about black-eyed to Vicki as she lifted the scarab out of his hand. He released his hold on Mike's shirt front and pushed him back into his seat.

"There is a legend, Vicki, that among the gifts that the Magi brought the Christ child was an obsidian scarab said to have mystical powers." He paused, his mouth working with emotion, "This could have been there…when…" His eyes tracked to the black stone in Vicki's hand.

"Or it could just be a black cockroach from a pyramid. Come on Vic. A Christmas bug…really?" Mike ignored Henry's growl and stood, setting his food on the desk. "You are full of Christmastime shit Fang boy…"

"Stop with the Christmas stuff already! Damn it, I am so sick of you guys and Christmas, Christmas, Christmas…" The scarab grew warm in her hand and began a humming vibration that only seemed to inflame Vicki's temper further. "I just wish that for once you could feel what I feel about Christmas and all the clap trap that goes with it. I just wish…You knew how I feel and that you would shut up about Christmas."

She rounded on Coreen, "You and all the annoyingly cheery Christmas decorations." She turned to Mike, "You and the damn family and friends and Christmas parties and dinners" and then she straightened and glared at Henry. "And you with your charities and good works and your f-fancy…g-gifts…" Vicki knew she was losing it, knew that tears threatened. "I wish you could see Christmas the way I do…now get out, all of you!"

**Chapter Two**

** Be Careful What You Wish for**

The room cleared out faster than a black Friday sale brought the people in, leaving her staring out the window into a night she couldn't really see. Mike and Henry had tried to apologize, but had been rebuffed and finally they'd left. She could hear the men arguing over who would give Coreen a ride home and was thankful when the voices began to fade and when there was silence at last, she turned from the window.

Christmas sucks, I don't care what you believe. She remembered her last actual happy Christmas. She was eight and her dad had actually been in the house. That was the last good Christmas she remembered. Every one after that was composed of her trying to be brave, her mother pretending everything was fine and her father's relatives staying away because they were ashamed. Christmas meant being alone to her and heart filled with 'what ifs'. When she thought she's waited long enough, Vicki carefully wrapped her scarf around her throat, put on her jacket and gloves and made her way to the door.

She gave the waiting room one last look, sighed, and pulled the door closed. The cab she'd called sat waiting and Vicki gave the driver her home address. At this hour, there wasn't much traffic, even during the silly season and she jumped when she heard the driver say, "Lady, we're here. You gonna get out or what?"

"Might as well," she said with one breath, and she handed him the fare with a generous tip.

He finally smiled at her and said, "Merry Christmas."

She heard him huff out "Scrooge" as the door closed in answer to her "Bah humbug", and stomped up the stairs, her footsteps growing heavier with each step, feeling around for her keys in her purse. She flicked the light switched and bright white light flooded her living room. Bare of any Christmas decorations, it looked as it did every other day of the year. Spartan, would be being charitable, with only the barest of necessities and dammit, she liked it that way! Just because everybody else in her life wanted to jingle rock through the holidays didn't mean she had to.

Her purse landed with a heavy thud on the table by the door and Vicki toed off her boots, wiggling her toes as she laid down on the sofa. The remote was right where she left it and with the push of a button, the television sprang to life. She groaned as she was assaulted by more Christmas programming and started clicking through the channels until she happened on an old Steven Seagal movie. She didn't care what it was about, just that every time he moved, he got to kick a bad guy's ass. By the time Vicki fell asleep, she had a smile on her face, dreaming of kicking Santa's elves all the way back to the North Pole..

#

The sun made its way through the frost covered window in the kitchen, the television a dull noise in the background as Vicki heard her alarm blaring from the bedroom. "Crap," dragging herself off the sofa and making her way to the normally ignored kitchen. "Coffee, I need coffee." The sun, for all the good it did, beat against the small window as she was tortured by the smell waiting for it to brew. While she waited, Vicki managed a quick shower and fresh jeans and sweater. A second cup in her hand, she fished her phone out of her purse.

No calls, no messages.

"Fine. It's not like I wanted to talk to them anyway, bunch of…Christmas-elf-do- gooders."

Struggling into her jacket, her boots, Vicki slammed her door shut and turned to find her neighbor Mr. Chao grinning at her, holding out a fruit cake.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Nelson, Mrs. Chao made this with her own hand. Enjoy." He didn't wait for an answer, just shoved the fruit cake into her hands and reentered his apartment.

Forced to take it, she jammed it under her arm and took off down the stairs, hurrying to the subway station. Too late to call a cab, by the time she reached the office, she was afraid there was going to be physical violence if she hadn't reached her stop when she did. Her mood deteriorating with each step, she didn't notice the mistletoe gone from over the door to her offices as she came around the corner but she did notice the door swung completely open unimpeded by the Christmas tree.

"What the…?" She took a look around, and everything was gone. From the tree to the candy canes, the fake presents to the garland that had hung around Coreen's desk, all of it was gone. She walked the perimeter of the office, saw that the stocking with her assistant's name embroidered on it was gone too and that's when Vicki started to worry. Picking up the phone, she was going to call Coreen before she panicked but slammed the phone down when the Goth walked through the door.

Dressed in black from head to toe, even her fingernails were black, the cheerful little candy canes had been painted over and Vicki stared.

Hands on her hips, she huffed, "Where's all the Christmas crap?"

Coreen's face screwed up in a frown. "Where do you think? It's in the trash where it belongs." Though Vicki's first reaction was, good, finally somebody's showing some sense around here, she felt her detective spider sense tingle. Coreen? Not all gushy about Christmas and all the nonsense that comes along with it?

"What's wrong with this picture?"

Coreen dragged herself over to her desk, opening her laptop.

"Nothing. I just realized that Christmas is stupid. It's full of lame ass presents and terrible fruitcake and cookies and who the hell could believe in Santa anyway?"

Vicki stood with her mouth open, the fruitcake she'd tossed on Coreen's desk forgotten. She shook her head, staring at Coreen like she was possessed. She felt gobsmacked. Coreen doesn't like Christmas? There were a limited number of explanations here and one by one she ticked them on in her head. One: Coreen's boyfriend had dumped her. Two: She'd finally come to her senses and realized what a sham the holiday was or Three: She was possessed.

She was going to go with possessed. Mostly because last year, when her then boyfriend dumped her, Coreen became even more zealous about Christmas. And if that didn't make her go Scrooge, this wouldn't. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Coreen sit hunched over her laptop.

Yup. Had to be possession.

**Chapter Three**

Vicky hitched up her shoulders beneath her jacket. There was just something a little too weird about Coreen's demeanor. I mean for God's sake she was practically an honorary elf and yet there she sat, hunched over her computer keyboard and scowling. She looked up and slowly pushed Mrs. Chao's fruitcake off the edge of her desk where in landed with a satisfyingly heavy thump in her wastepaper basket.

_Who the hell could believe in Santa anyways_… was echoing in Vicki's head as the door of the office opened and there stood the Jolly old Elf himself…in the flesh as it were or at least it was a fairly portly impersonator.

"We don't want any…" Coreen snarled at the exact same moment as Vicki asked…"You lost, Santa?"

"Victoria Nelson, private investigations, no case too strange?" Santa asked.

_I don't know, the world seems pretty damn strange right now_ Vicki thought but she only said.

"You've got the right place Santa Baby, how can I help you?"

"Humbug."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Humbug." Santa repeated, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Oh for pity's sake…." Coreen ruffled her papers and half turned her chair away as if to say…take it out of my office.

Santa cleared his throat his clear blue eyes, behind the wire frames of his glasses glanced nervously about the outer office. This guy is no schmuck in a glued on beard, Vicki thought. He had fine white hair and a beautifully groomed silvery white beard that was obviously real. Okay yeah, the red suit was a Wal-Mart special she was pretty sure, but the boots were real leather and she detected the accent of Italy in his next words.

"Meester Forseeyth? I was to say…Humbug."

"Forsyth? Oh! Right, right, please come in …Santa…I have your package."

Coreen snorted and rolled her eyes but refrained from further comment.

Once she had ushered him into a seat in her office and asked Coreen for coffee, Vicki sat with her elbows on the desk and fingers steepled watching him. She used this technique often and it worked every time. She simply stayed silent and eventually whoever was sitting in the other chair…well, their story finally just spilled out to fill up the silence. Santa had a peculiar alert, calm about him that said he was a man comfortable in his own ample skin. He exuded a kind of benevolence that made Vicki curious. Eventually even Santa shifted in his seat and Vicki caught a glimpse of the high white collar that cut across his throat beneath the red stretch velvet Santa coat.

_Priest? _She thought. What the hell was a Priest doing making a deal with Jules Anzio Venuchi also known as Mr. Forsyth.

"I have the artifact right here FATHER Christmas." She smiled as his eyes widened slightly, but the self possession of a man of faith asserted itself and he recovered quickly, and he held out his hand for the box containing the scarab. He didn't even bother to check it, simply tucked it into the red coat's pocket and rose to leave.

He took Vicki's hand in a soft, warm grip, the hand of a man whose work was that of the soul. "God bless you Mees. Nelson. Thank you." And then he turned to leave, passing Coreen with her tray of coffee in the office doorway. "What no milk and cookie fetish?" she called after him as his footsteps sounded on the stairs.

#

It was well after dark when Vicki left the office. Course that wasn't any big surprise. This time of year the big TO got dark at four o'clock in the afternoon. Well if you're gonna be a bestie with one of the living dead…I guess that is a good thing. She propped open the back door of the building and dragged the bag of trash out behind her. There in a solitary broken splendor was the Christmas tree from the office on its side in the bin. All the garland and lights and baubles still tangled in its branches. Jeesh, that isn't exactly what I meant…

#

Henry swung open the door of the condo and gestured Vicki inside. He looked…well, really, when didn't he look really fine? Long wavy hair curling around the collar of a loose sleeved deep blue silk shirt… but aside from that, he looked pissed. He was pacing, on the speaker phone with Sandy his agent.

"It isn't my concern Sandy. They shouldn't have put it in the auction catalogue without having obtained the piece."

"Henry please, you had already agreed…" Sandy's voice sounded distraught. "You told me that they could auction a fully inked original storyboard from Warrior Princess You even showed me the one."

"I've changed my mind Sandy. Those Christmas charities are opportunistic. Why should we be supporting a toy drive by the Fire Department? Just tell them I've changed my mind." He waved Vicki over to the bar, an unspoken invitation to pour herself a drink, which she did (a double) as she listened incredulously to Henry's continued refusal of Sandy's increasingly desperate pleas.

"It's great advertising Henry and think of the good will…not to mention all those happy children…"

Vicki moved to the balcony doors, swirling the ice cubes in her glass and was shocked to see Henry's little tree of memories still sitting outside in its container, bare and dark. What the… She could see the boxes and crates that held Henry's decorations stacked in the corner of the living room but they were unopened and usually Henry had his tree up by now.

"I said no Sandy. I don't care what you have to tell them. I have the utmost confidence in you that you will think of…something."

"Merry Christmas Henry." Sandy sounded like she was wishing him anything but.

"Goodnight Sandra." Henry hit the button to cut the phone and in an instant he was right behind Vicky. Bold, he wrapped his arms about her waist and leaned against her back, taking her scent. His voice was soft like heavy satin against her skin. "Let's skip the Carolers at City Hall and stay in." He placed a tender kiss on the side of her throat, and she shivered knowing that he was somehow working his mojo on her.

She twisted around to face him "None of that, Mister."

Henry frowned, "I don't know why you don't want to stay in. The weather's miserable, the streets are filled with mortal carolers and shoppers ready to beat each other senseless for the latest toy. It would be much more pleasant if we could just enjoy each other's company and not think about the holiday."

"But Henry, you love Christmas. You have your memory tree every year, with all those special ornaments on it, and every year, you tell me another story about the past. I love hearing about it, you know. It's the history geek in me." She pointed to the tree sitting on the balcony and then the boxes set aside, opened but still full. "You wanna explain this to me? And what's up with that call with Sandra? It's one of your favorite charities, and those kids need things that the money that the auction and your art brings in."

His voice took on the 'I am a Prince of the Realm' tone, "I contribute throughout the year, Vicki, and frankly, I'm surprised you even care. I thought you'd be pleased with my newfound Grinch spirit."

This time it was her brow that raised, "Grinch? What do you know about the Grinch? You have a television that doesn't even get cable and the last movie you watched was Nosferatu! And besides that, after listening to you and Coreen and Mike drone on and on and on about the spirit of Christmas, I find it a little odd that all of a sudden, Coreen has tossed out that ugly tree, ornaments and all. Now you haven't even done yours AND you've cancelled your donation for auction."

Henry face grew darker with each word she spoke and then he was in front of her, close enough to kiss, but the look on his face didn't have that I want to kiss you vibe. "Christmas is for fools who believe in fairy tales and I am no fool. I would think you'd be happy that I've come around to your way of thinking. You've always wanted that. For people to toe the Vicki Nelson I know everything line."

She was taken aback. In all the time that she'd known him, he'd never talked to her like this. Yes, he'd been haughty, mildly taunting, always flirtatious, but he'd never been…cruel. "I never wanted you to toe the line, Henry, you're who you are and I accept that. I don't judge. Like I said last night, I just wanted the three of you to try to understand where I was coming from and try to get why Christmas is so hard for me, that's all."

Henry moved away from, to his favorite place to stand, his hands clasped behind his back. "Well, then you got your wish. I can't speak for the others, but I do understand it now." Dumbfounded now, Vicki's arms crossed over her chest. Suddenly she was cold and it wasn't because the heat was turned down.

"Well, I'm sorry then. I didn't mean to infect you with my Grinchiness." The words were barely out of her mouth when her mind clicked on one word. Wish.

"Henry, tell me more about the scarab we delivered. What kind of power was it supposed to have?"

He turned back to her, a puzzled look on his face. "Just that whoever held it, possessed it, could make a wish and that it would be granted. One wish per customer, I think the tag line on the article was. Why?"

She fidgeted, "oh, no reason, really. Listen," she grabbed her purse, "I need to go check on something. Are you going to order in or go out?"

Henry frowned at her, "Vicki, I thought we were going to spend the evening together."

"We are, maybe we are, I just need to, uh, run a quick errand." She dug through her purse for her phone. "You just stay here, I shouldn't be gone long."

"I could drive you…"

She backed closer and closer to the door, "Nah. Won't take that long, just have to check on something. You stay put though. I'll bring back a movie and we'll watch that. How do you feel about the Die Hard series?"

He pursed his lips, and she could tell he was smelling her, trying to discern what she was hiding. "Very well. The Die Hard movies are fine. I think I still have some popcorn left over from last time."

She smiled, hoping it didn't look she was in pain, "great! Great! Back in a few. Don't go anywhere."

The doorknob poked the middle of her back and she was out the door, punching in Bettie Sagara's number as she made for the elevator. "Oh crap! God, please be home Bettie, I think I've royally screwed up."

The elevator ride took forever, or at least felt like it and when the doors opened to the lobby, Bettie had finally answered.

"Hey, Bettie, it's Vicki. I think maybe I have a problem." She couldn't see the professor but she knew she was shaking her head.

"Hello, Vicki, nice to speak with you again. What's happened this time? Henry possessed? Norman back?"

A cab waited at the curb and she didn't even wait to see if it was for her, just threw herself in the back seat and gave the driver Bettie's address.

"No, no Norman, but you might not be far off on the possession. I think maybe I made a bad choice in the Christmas wish department."

She looked up to see the driver's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Eyes on the road, pal. Look, it's a long story. Well, not really that long, but I think it's about a Christmas scarab." Vicki gave her the details, or at least what she knew of them and when the cab pulled in front of Bettie's house, she sighed with relief. Almost throwing the money at the cabbie who looked a little afraid to take it, Vicki sprinted to the front porch where the door almost magically opened. Bettie was already at work, books laid out on the dining room table, the Christmas table center carefully set aside.

"Hey. Thanks for helping me, what have you found?" Vicki was nothing if not direct.

Bettie sighed, "Well, according to what I've found so far, the scarab was a protection, a gift, from the Magi for the Christ child, offering whoever held it one wish, and once that wish has been fulfilled, the scarab becomes dormant until a new person holds it."

"Okay," Vicki nodded, "so how do we reverse it?"

"Vicki, what is going on? You were very vague on the phone."

"Long story short, I was holding the scarab at the office. We were commissioned to deliver it to…Santa, though it turns out he's a priest, and honestly between Mike, Coreen and Henry, I was just fed up with all the holiday cheer and them trying to bully me into liking the holiday, so I wished that," she sighed, "I wished that they'd be more like me for the holidays, to understand how I feel. Now, Coreen's undecorated the office, wearing all black again, and thrown the office tree in the trash, ornaments and all and Henry hasn't even brought his memory tree in from the balcony AND he's rescinded his offer to donate a piece of art that raises money for one of his favorite charities." A sick look came over her face, "oh God. Mike was supposed to be Santa for his nieces and nephews and for the kids at the precinct.

"Oh, dear. That could be, shall we say, unpleasant."

"No kidding."

Doctor Sagara leaned across the table and gave Vicki's hand a quick squeeze.

"Well from what you've told me dear I think that you may very possibly have triggered a wish that is affecting those who were with you when you made it. That certainly is out of character for Ms. Fennel. Oh, I remember her in my Alternative Realities Class at Christmas, virtually a Santa's Elf gone Goth. And Henry, I can't believe what you've told me, he has always been so generous and …" Bettie straightened in her chair glancing about the traditionally decorated room.

"I think it best if you go down to the station and check on the Constab… Detective Celluci. If he has been affected as well, I hesitate to think what kind of trouble that might cause. I'll stay here and see what else I can find out, the origins of the scarab, the possibility of reversing an ill wish. Forgive me, I know you didn't mean any harm but really Vicki…their Christmas spirit?" Betty sighed shaking her head reprovingly. "If…if it can be reversed at all. A priest you say? I will look into what orders might be likely to be involved with such an artifact as well."

Vicki rose to her feet, it was the closest she had seen Doctor Sagara to angry. "I told you , it was an accident I didn't really mean…"

Bettie just looked up at her until her voice trailed off. "Fine, I'll go check on Mike and I'll find a way to make this right, somehow."

She strode past the glittering Christmas tree, immaculately decorated that stood before Doctor Sagara's front window. She was muttering as her hand closed on the door knob when Doctor Sagara said mildly, "Merry Christmas, Victoria."

"Yeah right." She muttered as the door slammed behind her.

**Chapter Four**

**Bombs, Binoculars and Dumpsters**

"Shit my man are you crazy?" The rise at the end of Dave's sentence was far more than the question, it implied a certain sort of panic. "An exploding gift…shit Celluci, you are gonna get busted down to pounding a beat. If you're lucky." Dave drew out a immaculately folded pocket handkerchief and mopped at his brow. "You're gonna take me down with you, too, and I got ex-wives and kids to put through college! Man…it's _Christmas_."

"Enough with the Christmas crap already Dave, you sound as bad as my sister. 'But Michael, you _always_ are Santa…but Michael, the kids love it…but Michael, it just won't be Christmas if you don't…' Well screw that shit. It's time for a little fun," the grin on his face was scary and Dave inched further away from him. "I can't wait to see Crowley's face when she opens her gift…"

They were seated at a table in the canteen of the station house, the Annual gift exchange in progress. Celluci had drawn Crowley's name and he had been agonizing over choosing the gift right up until last night. It had suddenly come to him. Why shouldn't he have a little fun with it right? So he had packaged up the pair of binoculars he had purchased in a present guaranteed to explode in a cloud in a cloud of inky soot as soon as the lid of the box was opened.

"You are so gonna get busted Mike," Dave moaned.

"It's anonymous Dave, she won't know who…"

"Right brother, like you ain't been moanin' about drawing Crowley's name down at Murphy's every night this week, she _is_ a detective you know."

"Shhh..,she's opening it now." Sure enough Crowley was laughing at some jest and was carefully removing the wrapping from the gift. All eyes at the table were on her and the speakers were playing "I'll Be Home for Christmas" as she began to pry the lid from the box…

Vicki arrives at the canteen door just in time for the explosion. Well if you could call it that. There was a whoosh and then a cloud of black powder was in the air and when it settled, there stood Crowley, half risen from her chair in a shocked silence. You could have heard a pin drop, though outside on the street Vicki could hear a siren going by.

It might have been okay even then…The shocked expression on Crowley's face gave way to a tremulous smile…very white for the lower half of her face was covered in black powder. And the room let out a collective sigh but when she lifted the binoculars and held them to her eyes to look through them when she lowered them the hollow of her eyes was completely greasy black like a raccoon's mask.

Every eye in the canteen turned to Celluci, every single eye, and if he thought he was gonna be able to plead ignorant or hide behind a conspiracy of silence he was wrong. _He is gonna buy it_, Vicki thought, _he is totally gonna buy it and it is all my fault. I…I …can't let this happen._

"It was me," she said from the doorway. "I- I thought it would be funny. Celluci didn't know anything about it. I was all me…."

Crowley stood there, the color rising from her throat all the way to her hairline, going from pale to flushed red and for a moment Vicki just knew her head was going to explode. Though really she was more afraid Crowley would pull her sidearm and shoot her first.

Vicki took a step forward, "I'm sorry, I'm so, _so_, sorry. I did think it would be funny, but I'm here because I thought I'd get here in time to stop it. I realized tonight that this isn't what the spirit of the season is about." She took another step forward, hand reaching for napkins that sat beside the large Santa shaped cake and then was in front of Crowley.

She dipped the end of one of the napkins into the glass of water and brought it up to the Captain's face. "You've...you've got just a little schmutz on your face, I'll just get that." Crowley's expression didn't change, but her lips disappeared into an almost invisible line as she snatched the wet napkin from Vicki's grasp.

"If you were still a cop, you'd be in the typing pool right now," she hissed, and tossed the napkin onto the table, rising with as much dignity as she could muster. Vicki took a step back, and when Crowley came around, she leaned, whispering, "also, check your eyes, there might have been some kind of factory glitch with the dye or something."

Crowley said nothing, which was probably just as well, because the sound would have carried, the room being so still. When the captain crashed through the double doors and they clanged shut, the room stayed still for a few seconds then exploded with a mix of laughter and indignant remarks. Vicki looked across the room at Mike, their eyes meeting as she made her way through the crowd to him.

"Mike, you've got to come with me, there's been a horrible mistake. I made it, but I can fix it, so that's good, right?"

She knew she sounded lame, but the look on Mike's face made her keep babbling until she finally said, "come on, say something, Mike."

He stood up, not saying a word until he had his cel phone in his hand. "I have to call my sister," was the only thing he said as he high tailed it out the door.

"Uh, hey Vicki," Dave's voice interrupted her thought processes, "Merry Christmas?"

"Yeah, Dave. Merry Christmas." She turned and followed Mike out the door.

#

Father Michelangelo Rossini was relieved that the retrieval of the artifact had gone so smoothly and his superiors would be as well. It had taken a large sum of money and the exertion of considerable influence as well as months of work for the Order to arrange to obtain it. Now, as he waited in his hotel room he held it in his cassock pocket. It was a smooth, cool weight and periodically he allowed his hand to hold it. That was how he was aware that it began to vibrate and then hum, though by the time he had fished it out and held it in his palm, it had stopped.

He frowned and then crossed himself dropping the scarab back into his pocket. He had a flight back to Florence tomorrow night. Once he was there, his superiors could take over its stewardship.

#

It wasn't until they were in Mike's car, the heater blasting away in Vicki's face while it slowly melted a peep hole in the frost on the windshield, that she had a chance to explain what had happened. To Mike's credit he hardly scoffed at all about the idea of a magic Christmas scarab. All he did was run a hand through his hair and look relieved that there was some explanation for his behavior.

_I guess being the victim of a Christmas wish gone awry was enough evidence for the intrepid cynic that is Celluci_, she thought.

"Well I'm glad your sister was willing to forgive you Mike and I promise, I'll be there for your Mom to fawn all over on Christmas Eve…" She rolled her eyes but if that was what it took, well she owed him.

"So what is it we need to do Vic? I suppose Fang Boy will be all over this."

"Uh, not exactly, he's as Grinch-i-fied as you and Coreen. In fact, it was Henry's attitude that sent me scurrying over to Doctor Sagara's. She's doing some research on the scarab now."

"A Christmas cockroach that sucks the Christmas juice outta people. Why is it that ever since you took up with the Canine Crusader, my daybook has started looking like a Grimm's Fairytale?"

His voice was nearly a whine but when she shrugged and cleared her throat, he flashed her a bedeviled smile and then continued.

"So what we know is that this stone cockroach did something to me and Coreen and the Count. And we know that when you did something that reversed my Grinchiness, that somehow the cockroach spell was broken."

"Pretty much." Vicki looked thoughtful. "At least it seems that way. Let's try an experiment. Take me to the office."

**Chapter Five**

"You need to eat a few less donuts Vic, jeez..." Mike bent with his hands grasped together boosting Vicki up as she leaned over the dumpster edge and grasped the base of the Christmas tree trunk.

"Shut up Celluci, I've seen your love handles, remember. And people who live in glass houses…shouldn't…uhh!"

She managed to heave the tree out over the side of the dumpster and it now lay on its side in the lane way looking considerably worse for its sojourn in the trash.

"We could have just gone and bought another Vic, this one looks pretty sad."

"Nope I don't know if that would work…this is the one Coreen picked so this is the one we use. Help me get it upstairs."

Four hours and two trips to a 24 hour London Drugs, later Vicki had to admit that she may have actually surpassed Coreen. Course the bottle of whiskey was down by several inches and that might have had something to do with it but the office looked… well hell…like a Christmas wonderland.

The tree was restored to its cock-eyed glory, re-trimmed with lights and garland and the salvaged decorations. The walls were festooned with Christmas cards, strung on string and thumbtacks. The top of the filing cabinet had a garden of poinsettias, there was a vase full of candy canes on Coreen's desk as well as stockings along its front. There was even one of these mechanized Santa's that when you pressed the button He wiggled his butt and reached inside a sack of toys to the tune of "Up on the Rooftop" and a flashing lighted sign in the window that said "Santa Stop Here."

Mike and Vicki were sprawled on the couch, Mike with a goofy smile on his face was telling her a story about his nephew and the Guinea pig he had received for Christmas last year who they thought was a Pete but by New Years turned out to be a Patricia and family.

Vicki had to admit that she didn't feel half bad but she wondered if Coreen would feel the same.

**#**

Father Michelangelo Rossini was snoring. The priest knew he snored, almost every Brother in the order had told him he did, at one time or another. He was frankly asleep on the hotel sheets, his mouth slightly open and he was lost in a dream of his boyhood at his parent's vineyard in Tuscany. The little black stone scarab sat on the night table beside him.

While he was climbing amid the vines of Tuscany in baggy rag tag shorts, the stone began to rattle and hum against the Formica top of the nightstand. The boy Michelangelo never stopped his play and the priest Michelangelo was never wakened out of that pleasant, snoring slumber.

**#**

Coreen got under the covers, determined to go to sleep now that her mission was accomplished. First the decorations and the tree and all the stuff that went with it in the dumpster at work, now all her own decorations in her apartment were taken down and put away. She considered throwing them away too but a lot of them she'd inherited from her mom, and every year her dad gave her a new one to add to that collection and it would be just her luck if he showed up, wanting to see them. Not a trace of Christmas remained now in her dark apartment, she crawled under the covers, determined to sleep, her prayer to wake up after Christmas was over sent to the heavens.

She tossed and turned and then finally sleep claimed her to take her the land of dreams and when she arrived, she found herself dressed and back on the street, walking steadily toward the office. She frowned, wondering why she'd be going there at this hour but felt compelled to keep moving. Up the stairs, through the door and when it sprang back at her, she turned her head to see the tree right where she'd left it. In her dream she smiled. Christmas had returned.

**#**

"Okay. That's done, now we just have to fix what I did to Henry."

Mike groaned and she nudged him with her foot, "don't, not after all the work we did, and I should probably call Bettie." As if she'd been conjured up with the power of her name, Vicki's phone rang, the caller i.d. showing her had beaten her to the punch.

Running her thumb over 'accept' Vicki smiled, "I was literally just about to call you. I think I figured out how to fix it all."

She could hear the fatigue in Bettie's voice, "that's lovely dear, since I've yet to find anyway in any of my books to reverse it."

"Yup, so, it's going to be a long night and probably day too. Sorry to have dragged you into this Bettie, but it's your own fault for being so smart." Vicki smiled, "thank you, and hey, Merry Christmas."

"You're welcome dear, though I would appreciate it if you would solve Henry's problem. That way I will be able to sleep soundly for the few hours of the night remaining. Oh and Victoria, Merry Christmas."

The call ended before Vicki could say anything else and when she looked over at Mike to ask if he wanted to go with her to Henry's, his head rested against the back of the sofa, eyes closed.

"Mike?" She nudged him and he jerked upright, hand reaching for his sidearm. "Easy there, big fella, no one you need to shoot here."

He smirked, "that's debatable."

She made a face at him and in spite of really, really wanting to lay down and sleep, she groaned and dragged herself up from the sofa. "Yeah, you could just shoot me and put me out of my misery, but then you'd have to fix Henry all by yourself."

His head bounced against the back of the sofa, and he smirked back at her. "I'd like to fix Henry, but then you'd get mad at me and nobody wants to be on the business end of a Nelson hissy fit."

"Whatever. Look I need to get over there. Could you give me a lift? I can help you pick up what you need before you drop me off, then I'll get busy there and you can go smooth things over with your sister."

Mike groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, she's not really happy with me right now, it's going to take a lot of smoothing."

Hands on her hips, Vicki smiled. "Then we'd both better get busy." She picked up Mike's coat and scarf and wrapped herself in her own meager jacket and scarf.

Mike slid arms into his coat, "don't suppose you got me a new coat for Christmas, did you?" He held the door for her and they slipped back out into the night.

**#**

Greg looked up from his post at the front desk. It was Ms. Nelson, banging on the glass of the doors in the bright early morning light. He could see her arms full of parcels and cheeks red with the cold and two Starbuck's cups in her mittened hands.

Wearily he hit the buzzer, he knew he was no match for Ms Nelson Mr. Fitzroy's current love interest. It wasn't like he could refuse to admit her not when he knew that Mr. Fitzroy had given her a key.

Vicki opened the door with her elbow and then crossed to the desk in a trail of cold air, placing one of the cups in front of Greg. "Hey, thought you might like a coffee, Merry Christmas…" and then she was past and pushing the button for the elevator while Greg stuttered out his own…"Happy Holidays." And wondered who was that woman and what has she done with the Grinch Princess Ms. Nelson.

Vicki hit the button for Henry's floor and as the door closed she caught herself humming… actually humming as she thought about what she was going to do. Well it wasn't a Christmas carol, not exactly but by the time she was turning his key in the lock she was murmuring the lyrics to: "I Saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus".

The Condo was shuttered and dark and felt empty even though she knew that Henry lay in the sanctuary dead while the sun hung bright outside. She made sure the bedroom doors were closed and then slid open the balcony door. Sweating and cursing she managed to drag in the little potted Blue Spruce that was Henry's tree of memories. She made herself a pot of coffee, thanking all the stars that Henry kept the supplies on hand to feed her addiction and then she set to work.

She was well into the second box of ornaments when her cell went off and she was rewarded for answering with an earsplitting "Merry Christmas! Oh, I can't believe it, how did this happen it looks fantastic. I LOVE the Santa and how did you fix the tree I am so sorry that I threw it out I don't know what came over me I never felt like that befo…"

"Coreen its okay…Coreen…COREEN!"

"Sorry Vicki but I was just so happy when…"

"You know what Coreen? It's a really long story and it has to do with me wishing that you guys understood how I felt about Christmas. I'll tell it all to you when I get back to the Office in the mean time…I think it was a priest that picked up the Scarab. He was Italian from his accent…can you check around and…"

"I'm on it Vicki. I'll call you if I get anything."

"Thanks Coreen."

Dropping the phone back in her bag Vicki stood back to critically regard the little tree. It was, if she said so herself, beautiful. She doubted that Henry could have done better himself. The beeswax candles in their holders and the scent of honey in the air. She had marveled over each tiny portrait as she found places for them all one after another, more like jeweled pieces of art than ornaments.

"Not bad Nelson, not bad…" She arranged the presents she had brought for Henry beneath it and then turned to the setting up of Henry's magnificent old crèche. She had seen these beautiful deep brown wooden figures last year and knew that Henry prized them as mementos of his childhood. They had once been intricately painted but now with the passage of the centuries they were worn bare of all but a few traces of color here and there. Gold leaf on the Wiseman's crown or pale blue in the folds of the Virgin's cloak.

Where the time had flown she could not say but the sun was low on the Toronto skyline when she lowered the shades. After three o'clock for sure well she still had enough time. She was dragging the chest that contained the crèche towards Henry's bedroom and near jumped out of her skin at the sudden jangling of the telephone in the silence.

"Jeezus H Chri… ehm…Christmas!"

The machine picked up almost immediately and Henry's melodious voice floated out into the room. "You have reached the message machine of Henry Fitzroy. I cannot take your call at this time. If you wish you may leave a message following the tone. Please leave a name and number, do not assume that I know who you are."

_Typical_, Vicki thought and then she heard Henry's agent Sandra on the line.

"Henry, pick up, I know that you are avoiding my calls. Arrgh… I want you to re-consider…."

She fumbled the phone on the first try but finally managed to get the receiver to her ear and the message machine off.

"Sandra? This is Vicki Nelson, Henry's friend…"

"Ah, yes Miss Nelson, is Henry there?"

"Call me Vicki please, no I'm sorry Henry is …well indisposed but I think I may have a solution to your problem. I have an original storyboard from 'Warrior Princess', framed and signed by Henry Fitzroy that I am willing to donate for the auction."

In short order a relieved Sandy had the arrangements made and had rung off and Vicki returned to the heavy chest and dragged it the rest of the way into Henry's bedroom. Last year he had set the crèche on his dresser top and so she did. There was even straw for the manger into which she carefully laid the babe. She had just brought in two tall pillar candles and placed them to either side of the figures and was lighting them when she heard the sound of Henry's first indrawn breath.

"Merry Christmas Hank." She said without turning around.

**Chapter Six**

**Christmas Resolutions**

Father Michelangelo Rossini was in a cab on his way to the Airport. Traffic was snarled but he had plenty of time before his flight so he was not concerned as he stared out at the red tail lights in the dusk.

There were Christmas carols on the radio in the cab and currently the strains of "Oh, Holy Night" competed with the sound of the heater. If he hadn't been holding the scarab in his hand like some sort of talisman he would have missed it. The stone beetle buzzed and vibrated around in his palm for almost a minute and emitted a loud humming sound before stilling once more.

Father Rossini whispered a Pater Noster and then ran a thumb over the smooth stone, his eyes thoughtful behind his glasses.

#

As always, the first indrawn breath that told him he had returned brought his senses to high alert. There was always quiet, and sometimes a scent of whatever had been left behind from the night before, but considering how things had been left between them, he didn't really expect to smell… "Vicki."

He rose, not bothering to hide his nakedness from her, a grin on his face. "What's all this?"

Vicki studiously avoided looking anywhere but his face, though she could feel the heat rising up through her. She wasn't blind yet.

"I realized I had become a Grinch and then I realized the scarab we were delivering did have magic powers. It turned you, Mike and Coreen into Grinches too. Can you believe it, Mike actually put explosives in Crowley's Christmas present?" Henry's brow rose and a predatory smile overtook his face which Vicki ignored. "I asked Bettie for help, but it turns out, that to make things right I just had to fix what you guys were doing." She smiled a little sheepishly still feeling embarrassed in her new role as Santa's little helper.

"So, I took the blame for Mike's little explosion, put all the Christmas decorations that Coreen had thrown in the trash back up and now," she held out her arms with a flourish, "you're set up as well." She smiled, though it was a tired one, "and you'll be glad to know you're back on Sandra's nice list as well. I gave her my signed Warrior Princess storyboard to auction." She couldn't help the self-satisfied look, "and all's right with the world. Oh, and I've got Coreen on finding the priest who picked up the scarab, so," she cleared her throat, " I may need you to drive me somewhere."

Henry listened with a jaundiced eye. He knew he'd acted out of character the night before, but at the time it had seemed perfectly logical to him. He crossed his arms across his chest, enjoying her discomfort. "Well, then I suppose I should get dressed then. If I have to drive you somewhere that is."

"Yeah, me and my hormones would appreciate it. Just waiting for Coreen to call now." She turned, adjusting the crèche, the candles, even though they were already perfect. "I'll just wait out in the living room, k?"

"As you wish," he didn't even try to hide the laughter in his voice as he moved to his closet, "you think the priest will have some answers, then?"

She shrugged even though she knew he couldn't see, "it's more about making him aware of the power that thing wields. In the wrong hands, it could be a disaster. Don't want some errant priest wishing for something like a simpler time. We could all end up dragging clubs around and hunting buffalo at the zoo."

"That would be bad, but there is the upside of seeing you in a buffalo skin bikini."

Vicki snorted, "I don't care if I thought I was Anjelina Jolie, you wouldn't be seeing it." Her phone rang in her purse and before she'd even said hello, Coreen's voice burst over the speakers.

"Vicki! I found him! His name is Father Michelangelo Rossini but if you want to catch him, we've got to hurry! His flight is in less than an hour back to Florence!"

Mike's voice broke through Coreen's staccato report with "could you hold it down?! This is a very small space and you're very loud." Coreen's perkiness was almost infectious, and Vicki felt her heart rate picking up but then she frowned. "Do I hear Mike?"

"Yeah, we're coming up the elevator. I talked him into helping. We can use the sirens on his cop car!"

Vicki grinned, "oh Lord."

#

"I am immortal, Constable, but being involved in a ten car pileup would be just as painful to me as…." Henry's hand clamped to the back of the driver's seat and siren blaring and lights flashing, Celluci piloted his sedan expertly though traffic.

"Yeah and I suppose being tossed out of a moving car might bruise up your immortal hide just a bit too, don't tempt me Count"

"Don't make me compel you into thinking you are the Christmas goose…"

Vicki thought of telling them to stop but was so relieved to have them back at each other's proverbial throats…_well, with Henry it might be a little more than proverbial_…but still, she just didn't have the heart to tell them to stop.

Coreen sat beside Henry, a candy cane in her mouth and her fingers flying on her laptop keyboard. They were on the airport exit from the 401 when she smiled. "His flight is boarding from Gate 20 in Terminal three…

"Got it," Celluci drawled, yarding on the wheel and taking a right onto a service road that fishtailed the rear end of the sedan and swayed them all in their seats.

"If he makes it through security we'll miss him," Vicki fretted as Mike cut the siren, pulling into the terminal and swinging to a halt in the unloading only zone of departures.

"We can reach his Order via telephone if we must, though that won't protect Father Rossini from mischance should he.._accidently_…make a wish while holding the scarab." Henry stressed the word accidently and Vicki sighed as they all clambered from the car. "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry, it was an accident?"

Mike grinned at Henry and then flashing his badge, led them at a run through the departures lounge. They made it as far as the arrivals and departures board and then they all slowed to a stop. The holiday travelers didn't, towing their luggage, they still moved all around them. The Air Italia board confirmed they were too late, the flight had departed on time for Florence.

"Right. The one time I _WANT_ a plane to be delayed it isn't." Vicki scowled at the board but there was no changing what was. "We're too late."

Henry took her arm and drew her into an embrace. "We're too late to catch him _before_ he gets on the plane, but not too late for a telephone call or too late for Christmas. We are not too late…" He kissed her cheek as Mike went off to see if he could send a message through to the plane while in flight.

In the end it was decided they would return to Vicki's and watch a movie. Much the Henry's chagrin the Constable insisted on stopping for Chinese food on the way and so Henry spent the last leg of the drive with paper bags of food cartons balanced on his lap and the fragrance of beef and broccoli in his nose..

"Is it really necessary for you to growl like that Henry? Somebody might get the impression that YOU don't have any Christmas spirit." Vicki grinned and Henry chose the high road, refusing to comment.

A second stop at the video store garnered them a copy of the original version of _The Christmas Carol_ with Alistair Simms. Both Mike and Henry agreed that it was the "only" one worth watching comparing favorite scenes and Vicki thought…_I think I'm witnessing a new Christmas miracle._

At last her apartment was in sight and she had to admit that she was kind of wishing she'd decorated just a little bit for Christmas. Vicki knew she was going to catch flack for her complete lack of them, but though they said nothing, she could hear Henry, Mike and Coreen silently tssking as they entered.

"I know, there's no decorations up, but, well, you know."

"Don't worry, Vicki," Coreen piped up, "I'll bring you some tomorrow. We can decorate together! I have lots of extras, I've been collecting ornaments and stuff for years."

Mike was grinning as he unloaded the food from the bags, "yeah, Vic, Coreen has lots of decorations she'll share with you."

Coreen got out the microwave popcorn they'd bought at the video store and looked at the microwave. "Wow. Dials. How…retro."

Henry had declared himself movie monitor and got a paper towel to dust off Vicki's big screen tv and the dvd player. "Dear God, Vicki, have you even _heard_ of a dust cloth?"

She made a face at him and got out her mis-matched dinner ware for the humans in the room, then water for Henry and beer for her, Mike and Coreen. The movie was in the machine and ready to go as the four of them settled on to her oversized sofa, Henry a discreet distance away from the smell of beef and broccoli.

#

The good Father sat nervously in his economy class seat, his fingers on his rosary in one hand, the scarab in its pouch in his other. He didn't like flying overmuch, but he had to be back at sanctuary by Christmas and there was no other way. The 'fasten seat belts' sign had gone off and he breathed a sigh of relief that the flight had begun and his mission was nearly accomplished. As he sat there, saying one more prayer for a safe flight, the scarab hummed loudly, vibrating in the pouch and Father Rossini made a mental note to ask about that when he had reached safety.

#

Once the food was eaten though, before she realized it, Henry was sitting next to her, and none too discreetly slipping an arm around her shoulder. They managed to get through the previews then the movie began to play and Vicki had to admit, she liked this version better.

She barked out a laugh when "Bah humbug!" rang from the speakers, but it died in her throat when she realized Mike, Coreen and Henry had all turned to look at her.

Mouth full of popcorn, she mumbled, "What?"


End file.
